Page 21 of Her Scot of Bygones
When it thrust us out of our training session, and Hazel snapped awake as we still rode through the ever-darkening forest, I knew my Viking blade was no longer at my back because it had transformed into the sword she now held.
“Sheath it,”I ordered, more firm with her than I had ever been. I patted the sheath by her side.“Now because ‘tis a Sutherland blade made with Sutherland magic. The sheath will mute whatever beacon it might put off whilst out in the woodland.”
Despite her confusion, she listened, shaking ever so slightly as she slid it into place.
“It’s—”
“Nay,”I cut her off.“Dinnae speak of it until we are safely in my lair and I know we cannae be overheard.”
“Okay.”Another tremble went through her.“It’s the Viking blade, isn’t it?”
“So it seems.”I wrapped a protective arm around her waist lest trouble find us too soon.“’Twill be alright, lass. I willnae let harm come to you.”
“I’m not so sure the blade means me harm.”Her internal voice was tentative.“I think if anything, it’s meant to protect me...and remind me.”
No doubt it did, but I wasn’t about to confirm that.
Not when Evan Sutherland had undoubtedly forged it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
–Hazel–
OUTSIDE OF HOW I felt simply being near Lucas, I had never experienced anything so exciting as sword fighting, if for no other reason than it was so opposite of who I was. So far outside my skill set. I was a cook, baker, and barista for goodness’ sake, not awarrior.
Yet there I was in his mind, holding my own like a pro when he thought he would be teaching me. Instead, the more we battled, the more certain I was that he’d taught me these moves before. He had been as determined then as he was now that I knew how to defend myself.
It had been incredible. Exhilarating. A rush, until he came at me particularly hard, and my blade transformed into another.
More pointedly, his Viking sword became another sword entirely.
One I recognized right away, but from where? I couldn’t quite remember. All I knew was it had something to do with Evan Sutherland, and when Lucas snapped me out of his mental lesson and urged me to sheath the blade, I was sure he knew it too.
As predicted, despite the weather seeming fine earlier, thunder rumbled in the distance, and an icy wind grew stronger, so he slipped his arm around me to hold me steady, yet it was doing so much more, and I knew the timing wasn’t good. Not just because of the blade, but because it was a distraction neither of us needed right now. Despite being on MacLeod land, we were still vulnerable.
While being wary in the forest made sense, I couldn’t help but wonder when we arrived at our destination and he sent his horse back to the safety of MacLeod Castle, if Lucas arousing me right now were a distraction we especially didn’t need at the moment. After all, unlike the first time I arrived at his lair, it didn’t seem foreign and cold.
If anything, it felt the opposite.
“I know this place now,” I managed hoarsely, shocked by the onslaught of emotions washing over me. I looked around, then locked eyes with Lucas. “I know it well. In fact, I think I might have picked it because you can hear the rain and forest from here.” I smiled at where the smoke from the fire got sucked upward. “I would have liked that too, so we could build a fire, and I could cook.”
I could tell by the look in his eyes as he gazed at me that he was suddenly seeing things differently, too.
“Youwerehere before,” he said softly, gruffly, emotion thickening his brogue. He stood close enough to touch a lock of hair that curled over my shoulder, marveling at the feel of it. “I remember yer hair.” His gaze drifted to my eyes. “And again, yer bonnie eyes…but they were younger eyes…more innocent.”
“How, though?” I wondered, genuinely baffled. “How could I have been here with you, and how do I know Evan, yet not remember any of it?”
It seemed mentioning Evan’s name broke the spell because Lucas pulled his hand away, and his features hardened. “’Tis a good question. One I wish he weren’t part of.”
“Tell me what happened between you two.” I might have heard the gist of it, but not the details. As if I had done it dozens of times before, I headed for a cauldron hanging over the fire and began chanting ingredients into it that felt right for this conversation.
Right for Lucas.
While being able to chant things into existence would have shocked me a few days ago, it seemed perfectly natural now. Back home, I typically grew herbs or ordered them online. Now here I was chanting away with a flair of dragon sight and a touch of witchcraft, making a sweet-smelling concoction that would not only suit Lucas but the chilly autumn night.
“Nay,” Lucas began, not wanting to discuss Evan, yet he hesitated when I not only pleaded with my eyes in a way I knew he couldn’t refuse, but he caught the scent of what I was cooking.
“Please,” I prompted, gesturing at the chairs in front of the fire, while handing him a cup of his favorite whisky I had chanted into existence. “I need to understand…I think we both do.” I chanted small pieces of cake onto wooden plates, then poured the creamy, sweet sauce made from magic in record time over them. “And I think we need to do it together.”
